


Bigger Than Us

by TheDamselfly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski are Siblings, New Family, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDamselfly/pseuds/TheDamselfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm going out on the date this Saturday."</p>
<p>Stiles pauses and tilts his head. "A date? With who?"</p>
<p>"Ah," his dad says, scratching at his chin. "That's the thing."</p>
<p>"Dad, no," Stiles says, horrified.<br/>_______<br/>Sheriff Stilinski and Natalie Martin have that date a few years earlier than expected. Stiles and Lydia aren't entirely on board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bigger Than Us

Stiles is eleven when his mother dies, and he misses her horribly but he's been missing her for months already, as she turned into this person who he didn't know and who didn't know him. He'd never tell his dad, because his dad is already worries about so much, but she scared him when she shouted and screamed those awful things at him.

And now Stiles is standing next to his father beside a sleek wooden casket that's suspended over a deep hole in the ground, wearing his first-ever suit and clutching his dad's hand so tight he's not sure he'll ever be able to let go. His mom is in that casket, and once they walk away from this place, he'll never see her face again. Stiles' eyes already ache from crying so much today, but they burn some more at the idea that this is it. This is the end.

His dad is holding back just as tightly, and Stiles dares a glance up at his face. He looks just as exhausted and worn as Stiles feels, and he leans his shoulder into his dad's side.

"C'mon, kid," he says softly. "If there's anything left you want to say to her, now's the time."

Stiles reaches out his free hand to brush his fingertips against the casket. The wood has been warmed by the sun, because against all reason, there's not a cloud in the sky and it's a beautiful day. This time last year, his mom would've been bundling him into the Jeep with a towel and a cooler of snacks, and they would've driven the two hours to the coast. His dad would've waved them away from the front door, dressed in his deputy's uniform and ready to go to work, and Stiles would quiver with excitement at spending a whole day at the beach, just the two of them.

There aren't going to be any more trips in the Jeep to the beach.

"I'll take care of Roscoe for you, mom," he says finally. "I miss you."

His dad gives him a rough pat on the back, then touches the casket himself. "I'll keep an eye on Stiles. You just, you rest well, Claudia, you hear me?" He chokes over the last of it, draws his hand over his mouth like he's holding back something else. "Love you," he says finally, then lets go of Stiles' hand so he can wrap his arm around his shoulders instead.

Stiles stands there and watches from the safety of his dad's embrace as Mr Lahey slowly lowers her casket into the ground, and then together, they turn and walk away.

***

Stiles is thirteen when he starts high school, riding the bus to school because his dad is usually working hours that don't allow him to drive Stiles instead. Scott unfortunately doesn't live on the same route, but they meet at school every morning and hang out for fifteen minutes before first period starts.

They're loitering by the front doors when Lydia Martin swishes past, head high and eyes straight ahead. Stiles can't help but lose track of what he was saying to Scott in favour of watching her move through the crowds as if they're parting for her. Scott punches him good-naturedly on the shoulder, and Stiles snaps back.

"I'm serious, Star Wars, tonight at my place."

"I can't," Scott says, all apologetic. "I have an appointment to get my inhaler refilled after school. I can't miss it."

Stiles gets it. He's been taking pills for his ADD for a few years already, and the doctor always makes him go back in for the prescription renewal to make sure everything's still working the way it should.

"Fine, this weekend then," he says. Scott nods.

There's nothing atypical about his day until he goes home and, in the middle of rhapsodizing poetic about the way Lydia's nose wrinkles while she's solving algebraic equations, his dad clears his throat awkwardly.

"Stiles, I know this is probably going to sound strange to you, but I'm going out on the date this Saturday."

Stiles pauses and tilts his head. "A date? With who?"

"Ah," his dad says, scratching at his chin. "That's the thing."

"Is it with Scott's mom?" Stiles asks, because that's the only thing that could possibly be making his dad so hesitant to tell him. "Dad, I love Mrs McCall. I totally support this. I know Scott would too, if that's what you're worried about. Seriously, good job!" He holds his fist up for a bump, because Mrs McCall is super pretty for a mom, and his dad could do a lot worse.

"It's not Melissa," his dad says, ignoring the extended fist, and Stiles' arm droops. He meets Stiles' eyes square on, and says it. "It's Natalie Martin. Lydia's her daughter."

"Dad, _no_ ," Stiles says, horrified.

"She's a counselor who helps out the Sheriff's Department when there's been an incident. We started chatting and, well, she's a very lovely woman."

" _Dad_ ," Stiles says again, eyes wide. This is not what he was expecting at all. A minute ago, he was one phone call away from celebrating their impending brotherhood with Scott. And now his dad wants to date Lydia's _mother_?

"I'll call it off if it really bothers you that much," his dad says, but Stiles can see the way his shoulders sag a little, the way his mouth pinches at the corners. It's been a little over two years since his mom died, and this is the first time his dad has expressed any interest in seeing another woman. It's been rough since they buried her, figuring out how they work without her, but they've managed to muddle through the worst of it. Somehow, Stiles doesn't want this to be the hill their relationship dies upon.

"I think you should do it."

His dad blinks in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yeah." And Stiles finds that he means it. "I don't think Lydia's going to look my way anytime soon. You probably have the better shot, anyway. I mean, what woman in her right mind turns down the handsomest sheriff on this side of the Rockies?"

His dad smiles at that, and Stiles grins back. Chances are that nothing will really come of this anyway, and then everything can go back the way they were, without his dad forever regretting that he never had the chance to try. Stiles gives himself a little pat on the back for that, and reminds himself not to fawn over Lydia too much in his dad's hearing until this all blows over.

***

It doesn't blow over.

Natalie and Lydia Martin join them at their house when his dad turns 40. Some of the deputies from the station are there too, and some personal friends of his dad's that don't work for him. Lydia is the only other teenager there, and Stiles tries to ignore how she's standing in the middle of his kitchen, wide eyes bright and attentive on Deputy Harrison as the officer describes some of the charity work that the Sheriff's Department does for Beacon Hills.

Stiles sidles up to his dad, who has a hand on the small of Mrs Martin's back. He's grinning and laughing at a joke, and Mrs Martin beams up at him.

This really isn't the way Stiles expected their dates to turn out.

He thought that maybe his dad would go out with her a few times, take her to dinner and the movies, kiss her once or twice, and then decide that it wasn't the right thing. Maybe he wasn't over Claudia yet, or maybe he just didn't feel like he and Natalie were compatible. But it's been seven months and they see each other at least twice a week. Between his work schedule and his dates, Stiles doesn't feel like he sees his dad as much as he should, or as much as he wants to.

"Dad," Stiles says, under his breath because he knows when to have a little tact. "Can I call Scott over?"

He catches the way his dad's eyes dart towards Lydia across the room. She's still standing with Deputy Harrison, but her eyes are starting to glaze over. "Why don't you take Lydia to see your room?" he suggests, and Stiles thinks about how, a year ago, he would've leapt at the chance and then fallen all over himself to have Lydia Martin in his bedroom.

He fidgets a little instead of answering, glancing away from her and looking at his hands instead. "I'd rather call Scott," he says softly.

There's some sort of silent communication that goes on over his head, because his dad is leading him away from the kitchen a moment later. They end up in the laundry room, and his dad shuts the door behind them, muffling the sounds of voices and laughter from the rest of the house.

"Is there something I should know about?" his dad asks.

Stiles kicks weakly at the washing machine. "Lydia and I don't run in the same circles. She doesn't talk to me."

His dad leans his shoulder against the wall and watches him. "You used to talk about her all the time," he says.

"Yeah, but she never talked to _me_. I think she likes Jackson Whittemore. I just don't want to make things worse than they already are," Stiles says, and then immediately sees that it was a mistake.

"Worse?" his dad asks, and his eyebrows are drawing together like he's unhappy. Stiles waves his hands frantically.

"No! Nothing's bad, exactly. But if I go up to her and say, 'Lydia, want to come see my room?', she's just going to laugh in my face. Or ignore me. It's hard to tell with her, sometimes."

"I didn't realize it was like that." His dad rubs at his mouth. "We just assumed that you knew each other at school and didn't want to do an awkward meet-and-greet like you'd never met before."

Stiles shrugs and gives a hiccupping laugh. "You might have to remind her what my name is, actually. I don't think she's ever remembered."

His dad looks at him carefully, then nods as he pushes himself off the wall. "Give Scott a call. You're welcome to go upstairs and play some video games, as long as I can't hear you from down here. I know you don't want to spend all your time with the old fogies."

"Thanks, Dad," Stiles says, because his dad really is pretty amazing, when he's around.

Luckily, Scott is free and bikes himself over right away. Scott wishes his dad a happy birthday and snags a piece of slab cake before they disappear upstairs. There's a new Halo game that they've only just started digging their teeth into, and Stiles fires up his Xbox and passes Scott a controller. They sit on the floor and lean against the side of his bed, legs stretched out in front of them. They may have a bad habit of kicking at each other when things get competitive, but it gives them plenty of space to spread out their snacks and books, if they're pretending to be studying at the same time.

Scott is howling with success, riding the high of his win when the bedroom room creaks open. "Sorry, dad, we'll keep it down," Stiles says, reaching for the remote when Lydia slips through the doorway. "Um," Stiles says intelligently.

"My mother said all the younger people were gathered up here," she says, like she doesn't know it's just going to be the two of them, but she looks around like maybe she's missing someone. "I'm not sure this is going to be any better than downstairs, but at least you won't ask me about what my plans for college are."

Stiles gapes at her when she sits down on the edge of his bed. His bed. Scott punches him, because Scott is a good friend. "Soda?" Stiles offers, gesturing to the bottle of Coke they smuggled up with them.

"No, thank you," Lydia says. They all sit in silence for a long moment, then Scott tentatively presses a button on his controller to restart their game.

Stiles and Scott only rag on each other a little bit in comparison to how they normally play, and Lydia sits silently behind him. Stiles doesn't look to see what she's doing, just hoping that she isn't judging his room too harshly, and plays the game. He loses again because he's so distracted, but suddenly it's an hour later and Mrs Martin is knocking on his door.

"It's time to go home, Lydia," she says. She waits as Lydia stands and gathers up her purse, then ushers her out Stiles' bedroom door. When Lydia is out of sight, Mrs Martin turns back to the pair of them sitting on the floor. "Thank you for keeping her company," she says with a small smile. "It was lovely to see you, Stiles."

"You too, Mrs Martin," Stiles says, a little uncomfortable around her like he always is. She disappears as well, and Stiles lets out a long sigh.

"It's more serious between them than you've let on, isn't it?" Scott asks, unusually perceptive.

Stiles tilts his head back against his bed and wonders if maybe he's cursed.

***

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all at his dad's birthday party, because all of a sudden there are dinners with both Mrs Martin and Lydia. Sometimes they come to the Stilinski household, and sometimes they go to the Martin household, and once they go out to a restaurant. It's awkward, because the adults are obviously trying so hard for the two of them to get along, and Stiles never knows what to say to Lydia and Lydia never talks to him.

They've just left the Martin's house, where Mrs Martin served pork chops and mashed potatoes and gravy, and Stiles watched as his dad shovelled it away with more enthusiasm than he ever has for the healthy meals that Stiles makes for him. Lydia sat across from Stiles and cut her meat into dainty pieces, ignoring his presence completely. Mrs Martin was her usual bubbly self, but Stiles can see how this is all wearing on her, like she doesn't understand why her daughter refuses to make any kind of effort to the kind sheriff and his gangly son.

Traffic always seems unbearably slow when they take the cruiser anywhere, because people reflexively slow down when they see the black-and-white. They're creeping along behind an SUV going under the speed limit when his dad sighs.

"This thing with you and Lydia, it's not getting better, is it?"

It's been nearly two months since the birthday party, and Lydia still doesn't talk to him at school or at the dinner table or generally acknowledge his existence in any way. Nothing's changed except for how their parents are suddenly aware of how Lydia treats him, and they're dead-set on changing it. He kind of wishes they wouldn't bother trying.

"It was never going to," Stiles says, because since his dad started dating Mrs Martin, he's realized that this thing he had for Lydia was never going to get off the ground. She doesn't like him like that, and chances are she never will. He'll continue to admire her, because she's intelligent and beautiful and ruthless, and those things deserve respect, but he doesn't kid himself anymore that she'll ever admire those things in him. He slumps against the cruiser door and stares out the window. It's dusk and lights are starting to come on inside of the houses they pass by.

It'll be dark in their house when they get home. No one is waiting for them there.

His dad drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. "I never realized, when you used to rave about Lydia Martin, that she treated you like that. You know that's not okay, right? You're allowed to like someone who likes you back, and you don't have to deal with people treating you that way."

There's not a lot to say to that, and they fall back into silence. They're almost home when his dad says suddenly, like he can't keep it in any longer, "Natalie and I have been talking about moving in together."

Stiles whips his head around to stare at him. "What?" he demands. This can't be happening. This is the worst possible scenario.

"They're in that big house that Natalie can't pay for on her own. We've got the space; I thought they could move in with us."

Stiles has this horrific image in his head of having to share a bathroom with Lydia Martin, which he imagines means he will never be allowed in the bathroom again. Lydia Martin, living in his house.

" _Why?_ " he chokes out, then feels the tears welling in his eyes. His dad may be dating Mrs Martin, but at least when they go home, it's just the two of them. If they move in, Stiles doesn't get to keep his dad to himself anymore. "When?"

"We were hoping that you and Lydia might sort out whatever's going on between you, but I don't think that's working. We didn't want to force you into a situation where you might be uncomfortable."

It's a nice thought, but a misguided one.

"Maybe you can just wait until we go away to college," Stiles says hopefully, even though he knows that's over three years away and not a solution for anything. The look his dad gives him says he knows that too. "Hasn't Mrs Martin talked to Lydia about this? It's not all my fault."

"I know it's not," his dad says. "And you've taken this all very well, you know. I really appreciate it. But if us moving in together will make things harder for the two of you, well..." His dad takes a deep breath and stares out the windshield. "We can wait. It's fine. The two of you are our first priority."

Stiles doesn't have to look at him to know that this isn't at all how his dad wanted this conversation to play out. He wanted a son who would be as excited that the Martins were moving in as he was at the prospect of Scott becoming his brother. But it's not the same. It's not the same at all. He and Scott share everything, and Lydia hasn't looked at him by choice in the entire time he's known her. But that doesn't change the fact that he feels like a completely awful son right now.

They pull into their driveway without having said anything else, and his dad unlocks the front door to let them in. They hang up their coats on their matching hooks, then Stiles glances over at his dad. He looks resigned, and Stiles does the only thing he can think of.

He grabs his dad around the middle and hugs him tight.

"Oh," his dad says from over his head, then wraps Stiles up in his arms and hugs him back. They stand in their front hall for a long moment, and Stiles thinks that maybe his dad is trying not to cry.

When he lets go, he goes upstairs to his room. Maybe that's not the only thing he can think of.

***

Lydia and Stiles share only one class, and Stiles drops his binder rather dramatically onto the lab bench beside her when he comes into Chemistry. She looks up at him with a single raised eyebrow, then looks pointedly at the empty bench behind hers.

"No, I'm good here," Stiles says as he fishes a pen out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Look, I don't know what your mom has told you, but we need to come to terms with some things." She looks offended that he seems to be ignoring all of her cues to leave her alone, but this is worth it. Stiles is determined. "My dad told me last night that they've been talking about moving in together."

Lydia's eyes go a bit wide and her throat moves as she swallows, but she doesn't say anything. He doesn't think that Mrs Martin has told her.

"Except right now they think we hate each other, or something, and they're willing to put it off until... I don't know when, but they've pumped the brakes. And I don't know your mom all that well, but I know my dad, and he deserves to be happy, and I think he's happiest with your mom, so I am here as a Stilinski ambassador to extend a truce. We don't have to like each other, but I want what's best for my dad. I just need your help to make it happen."

She gives him a long look, then turns back to the front of the classroom. "We have a lab today. You better not be useless with a graduated cylinder."

They get through the class and get their lab right, and when the bell rings and they're packing up their things, Lydia turns to him. Stiles straightens up and clutches his binder to his stomach.

She huffs through her nose, then gives her ponytail a swish. "Fine," she says, as if it's been dragged out of her against her will. "Next dinner, we'll have a polite conversation." She leaves the classroom and Stiles behind her, whose knees have gone nearly weak with relief.

He can do this.

***

"How did you find the chemistry test this week, Stiles?" Lydia asks from across the table.

They're in the Stilinski house today, and both their parents' heads swivel to stare at her. Lydia acts like nothing out of the norm is happening, and takes another bite of her salad.

"It was fine," he says, floundering for something better to say. "Are you taking Chemistry next year?"

"All of the sciences, and the maths too," she says, because Lydia Martin is brilliant and can handle that kind of ridiculous course load. He nods knowingly, like he wouldn't have expected anything less.

"Sorry," his dad interrupts. "But did I miss something here?"

***

It's the start of their campaign to make their parents' lives easier, and eventually his dad and Mrs Martin get used to it, even if his dad sometimes casts him a suspicious look. Stiles and Lydia get thrown together more and more, and it's starts becoming weirdly normal to talk to her even when their parents aren't around to witness it. Lydia snags him by the arm one day in Chemistry and makes him sit next to her, because Jackson doesn't have the focus she requires in a lab partner, and Stiles sits unthinkingly.

Scott is incredibly happy for him.

"This is like everything you've ever wanted," he says to Stiles when they're dominating in Halo online. "Lydia's talking to you! In public, even!"

Stiles shoots an alien to pieces on-screen. "The thing is, I don't think I like her like that anymore." And it's not even a lie. He's only ever been able to see Lydia from a distance, but now that he's in her sphere of influence, he's starting to see things he's never noticed before. She puts on a great facade for their classmates, but she's fond of her mother and doesn't mind when his dad goes into detail about his role as sheriff. He thinks that maybe she'll grow out of her queen bee phase one day, and then she'll just be spectacular without the bitchiness. He thinks maybe they could be real friends.

"Dude," Scott says seriously. "I'm not sure if I should be happy for you or not."

"Happy," Stiles says honestly. "It's the best for everyone."

***

"I think you should talk to Mrs Martin about moving in, again."

His dad fumbles and drops a glass into the sink.

"Stiles, are you sure?" he asks once he's cleaned up the broken glass. "It's a big step. She'll have to sell her house."

"We can do it," Stiles says.

"I'll talk to her," his dad says, somewhat dazed.

"I'll start cleaning out the spare bedroom." Lydia's going to need a space of her own, after all.

***

When his dad comes home that night, he goes straight to his bedroom. Stiles follows, uncertain, peering through the door. His dad's standing in front of the closet, staring at the few pieces of Claudia's clothes that he'd kept. He's got the sleeve of one of her shirts in-between his fingertips.

"What do I do with them?" his dad asks without turning to see him in the door.

"We could pack them up," Stiles suggests softly. He loved his mom, will always love his mom, but his dad needs to live in the present, and Stiles doesn't think that Mrs Martin will like sharing her closet space with the memory of a woman who has been gone for almost four years.

Together, they spend the afternoon moving most of Claudia's things out of his dad's bedroom. They leave the photo of the three of them, taken when Stiles was eight, on his dad's nightstand, and her wedding ring stays tucked in a special box in his drawer. They move the boxes with her things, lovingly packed, into the basement. Stiles makes sure they're up high, so that water can't damage them if the basement ever leaks, then leans his hand against one of the boxes and waits for his dad to go back upstairs.

"He needs this," he tells the box. "I think you'd like her. Mrs Martin. Natalie. She's beautiful, you know, for a mom, and she really likes him. And she treats me nicely enough. Dad could do a lot worse. I hope you're happy for him," Stiles says, then rubs at the corner of his eyes where tears are gathering. "But I'll always love you best, mom."

***

The Martins hire movers to truck over their belongings on a Saturday morning. They've left behind a lot of their furniture in the house they've just sold, because there simply isn't room for it in the Stilinski home, but the entirety of Lydia's room gets moved. There are suddenly photos of a young Lydia on the shelf next to the one of Stiles when he was four and thought that he needed to wear a cape every day, and the makings of Mrs Martin's breakfast shake find a home in the freezer.

Stiles knocks on Lydia's door and waits in the hall until she summons him inside. There are boxes everywhere, and she's carefully setting everything up just as she wants it. "Good," she says when she sees him. "I need the desk moved over here."

He helps push the desk to the designated spot three feet over, and watches as she continues pulling her belongings out of boxes. "I'm glad you're here," he says honestly.

She looks over at him and quirks her lips in a hint of a smile. "This room isn't as big as my old one, but I suppose the company could be worse," and Stiles doesn't think he'll ever get higher praise than that from her. "Now, bathroom," she says. "I hope you cleared me a lot of space."

***

Stiles doesn't readily give up cooking duty even after they move in. He's serving up chicken breast and green beans and sweet potato when Mrs Martin offers to pick up some of the work.

"At least a couple times a week," she says, and Stiles knows she feels guilty for letting him cook when all social conventions say it ought to be her.

"It's fine," he says, and it is, because he has the most control over his dad's diet when he cooks. "Dad, more beans than that."

His dad grumbles and spoons himself another scoop of vegetables. Stiles sits and serves himself, and it's still strange to have four people around the table all the time instead of once every couple of weeks.

"At least let me teach you a few recipes," Mrs Martin bargains. "Some easy things. A meatloaf, or hamburgers." Stiles can see his dad's eyes gleaming with ill-disguised hope. "Just to give you a bit of variety."

"No, thank you," Stiles says, getting his hackles up.

"Oh, of course. Just an offer," she says, backing off when he hunches his shoulders in on himself.

"Stiles is just protective," his dad says gently, carefully. "He's kept a close eye on my cholesterol ever since he was twelve and the doctor warned me about it getting too high. I think he wants to see me live to a hundred, at least."

There's understanding in Mrs Martin's soft 'oh.' When she brings home groceries the following week, Stiles can't help but notice that she's left out red meat entirely, and all the meals she prepares are as heart-healthy as can be. He gladly passes on some of the cooking responsibilities, and his dad gives Mrs Martin the same heart-broken look when she plunks a plate of fish and rice in front of him.

"It's good for you," she says unrepentantly, and Stiles grins into his dinner.

***

Lydia has dragged him out to the mall to go shopping with her, because she's furious with Jackson about something or other, and she needs to get it out of her system. Stiles tags along as she flips through the racks, giving his opinion when she asks for it. She forces him to try on some shirts in a style he wouldn't have ever picked up on his own, and he has to admit that she knows what she's doing. It's not a long walk back to their house when they're done, but Lydia gripes about it anyway.

"At least you're turning sixteen soon," she says, and Stiles remembers when he would've been ecstatic that she knew his birthday. Now he just shrugs. "Except, what are you going to drive? Your dad has the cruiser, but I doubt you're allowed to have that."

"Roscoe's mine," Stiles says promptly, and Lydia gives him a look like he's not making any sense. "The Jeep in the garage?"

"I've never been in the garage," she says.

Instead of heading inside when they get home, Stiles unlocks the garage door and ushers her inside. He flicks the light on and gestures grandly. "Lydia, meet Roscoe. Roscoe, Lydia."

"It's _powder blue_ ," she says. "Where on earth did you get this thing?"

"It was my mom's," Stiles says, and Lydia's mouth snaps shut. "Some of my favourite times happened with this Jeep. I made my dad hang onto it for me."

"Oh," Lydia says softly. They stand in silence for a long while, staring at Roscoe. Stiles has been spending time in here when he can, vacuuming out the worst of the dust and checking all the fluids, with Google at hand to help him through. He wants Roscoe to be ready the second he gets his license. "You don't ever talk about her."

"Dad doesn't either. I don't know. We think about her, I know we do, but... she's too hard to talk about."

Lydia gives him a sympathetic look. "You must've really loved her. I can't imagine how hard it was, losing her."

"She wasn't the same at the end." He can't make eye contact with her, or he'll lose all the courage he has to actually tell someone about this. "She was really sick. Her brain basically ate away at itself. She recognized my dad, but she didn't know me most of the time, at the end. She was a great mom, the best mom, but she got mean when she didn't know me." He swallows. "She yelled, a lot. Told me to get away from her. I can't remember the last thing she said to me that was real, the last thing where she was my real mom."

Lydia's eyes are bright with tears, and she reaches over and touches his wrist with careful fingers.

"My dad cheated on my mom, with his secretary," she says, offering a piece of her heart in exchange for his. "It was the most clichéd thing in the world. And when my mom started seeing your dad, I asked him if I could go live with him instead. I was pretty certain that we were all going to end up here, and I didn't want anything to do with it. But he said he didn't have time to keep an eye on me. He had another kid last year. He named her Layla."

Stiles reaches around and wraps an arm around her, and together they stand in the dark of the garage.

"Come on," she says finally. "I have to hang up my new dress before it gets too wrinkled." Stiles gives her one last squeeze and locks the door behind them, following her up the porch steps and into the house. There's an odd thump from upstairs, and they both stop. Stiles pushes Lydia behind him, then creeps up the stairs.

He fishes his baseball bat out from behind his bedroom door, then calls out. "Hello? Who's up here?"

"Stiles!" his dad's voice calls back from behind the closed door of his room, sounding weirdly off. "What are you doing home?"

"I live here!"

There's a soft scuffling, and Stiles lowers his bat from where he'd had it cocked against his shoulder. Lydia comes up the stairs behind him. And then his dad opens the door, still buttoning his uniform shirt, belt unfastened on his pants. Natalie is rearranging her hair behind him, her cheeks pink.

"Oh, _God_ ," Stiles says, and Lydia squeaks and claps a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Lydia, hi," his dad says weakly. "You're both here."

"No, no, we're both gone now," Stiles says, and drags Lydia into her room. He shuts the door behind them, then stares at her. She lets out a startled giggle, then laughs outright. He's still watching her in mild shock when she tips her head back and shouts.

"Get it, mom!" and bursts into peals of laughter.

***

They start junior year by driving Roscoe to school. Lydia has reservations about the Jeep, but she also admits that it's better than taking the bus to school. She's still on-again, off-again with Jackson, which means she can't always rely on him for a ride, and so Stiles lets her have forever-dibs on shotgun and makes Scott get in the backseat when they pick him up.

Their parents have gotten more careless with their affection, and Stiles has spotted them kissing in the kitchen more often than he'd like. It's strange, comparing his dad now to three years ago. There'd been a lot of whiskey, back then, and a lot of sleepovers at Scott's when his dad was sleeping it off. But now he only drinks the occasion beer on the weekends, and he's so undoubtedly happy that Stiles can't really imagine why he was so against this whole thing to start.

His dad isn't around for dinner that night, and Natalie tells them that there's a big case going on, and he's likely to be out all night. Stiles hasn't ever been able to help himself, so he listens in on the scanners.

A suspected murder. In Beacon Hills. This sort of thing never happens.

He's pulling on his sneakers when Lydia appears in his bedroom door. "It's ten," she says. "Where are you going?"

"Scott's," he says, because that's not a lie.

"And then?" Because she's not dumb.

"The preserve. There might be a body."

She sighs. "Don't you think this is a job best left to the professionals?"

"Come on, Lydia, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Don't tell your mom, okay?"

"Fine," she says. "Don't be too stupid."

"Ha," he says, then creeps out the side door and drives Roscoe over to Scott's house.

Scott nearly brains him with a lacrosse stick, but he eventually agrees to come with. They park in the preserve and hike through the trees, sweeping their flashlight along the ground. Scott pants and sucks back on his inhaler. They're never going to make first line this year.

Stiles fumbles the flashlight off when he sees the beams from other lights, hears his dad's voice calling out to the deputies. But he's probably not quick enough, because suddenly his dad is calling out to him.

"Dad, how're you doing?" he asks brightly when he comes into view.

"Where's Scott?"

"Scott? Scott's home. Wanted to get a good night's sleep before lacrosse tryouts tomorrow. Just me, by myself."

"Uh huh," his dad says doubtfully. "Lydia seemed awfully convinced that Scott would be with you."

"Dammit, Lydia," Stiles groans. He should've known she'd call his dad.

Scott pokes his head out from behind a tree, and the sheriff beckons him over. He's taken two steps out when there's a hulking black shadow racing between the trees, and it tackles Scott to the ground. The deputies are shouting and Stiles has been shoved roughly behind his dad, and Scott cries out in pain, and then suddenly the animal is gone. Scott's laying on the ground, blood across his stomach, and three deputies have raced to his side. Another one is calling in an animal attack and demanding an ambulance to the nearest road in the preserve.

Stiles clutches to the back of his dad's shirt. Suddenly ducking into the woods for a late night adventure doesn't seem like such a brilliant idea.

"It's fine, you're fine," his dad murmurs to him, even as he directs his deputies to help Scott and track the animal as best and as carefully as they can. "Scott'll be right as rain in a few days. You'll see."

Stiles exhales harshly. Fine. They'll all be fine.

***

Lydia only raises an eyebrow when he confronts her at home. "I don't know what you expected," she says. "Now, get some sleep. I don't need you crashing the Jeep while you're taking me to school."

***

Scott is, weirdly enough, at school the next day. He swears there was a set of teethmarks in his side last night, but he woke up without a scratch on him. He's also super into the new girl who arrives that day, offering her a pen before she can ask for one.

"Lydia," Scott says, pleading with his best puppy-dog eyes on. "She's going to need a friend. Can you introduce yourself? She seems really nice."

"Ugh," Lydia says. "The things I do for you two."

But she sashays up to the new girl at the end of the day, compliments her outfit, and invites her over to hang out that weekend.

"Lydia," she introduces herself, every inch the queen bee that she is. Stiles and Scott watch from across the hall, Stiles elbowing his friend so that he maybe stops drooling on his sleeve.

"Allison," the new girl says. "Yeah, alright. Where do you live?"

"Oh, you can just hitch a ride with my brother and I after school," Lydia says, tipping her head in their direction. Stiles gives an awkward, jerky wave, and Scott nearly panics at having Allison's attention suddenly on him. "It's the powder blue Jeep in the lot. You can't miss it. See you in English?" she says, and Allison smiles.

***

"Brother?" Stiles asks when they're studying in his room that evening.

"Shut up," Lydia says, and steals a sip of his Coke. He grins.

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I can tell, there's not really anything else like this for the TW fandom. If I'm wrong, please let me know and link me to something in the comments; I'd love to read it! But I wanted to explore how the Stiles/Lydia relationship would change if they were forced together long before the introduction of the supernatural. Also, the sheriff deserves to be happy, right?
> 
> Also, since this wasn't beta-read and was written in an afternoon and I'm not always the best at finding my own mistakes, please let me know if you see any glaring grammatical or spelling errors. Much appreciated!


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